


"Good Luck"

by whenyouheldtheknife



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: Best Friends, Crossover, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Quidditch, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenyouheldtheknife/pseuds/whenyouheldtheknife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homestuck/Harry Potter crossover. John's trying out for a position on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and Dave & Rose come to watch him, having a small conversation in the stands before an accident happens with John. Dave also royally screws up his confession. Then again, what else is new?</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Good Luck"

Dave sat on the bleachers surrounding the Quidditch pitch, facing the field. There was a group – a large group, actually – of Hufflepuffs of all years on the field, milling about and waiting for tryouts for the House’s team to start. Dave was a Gryffindor, but he was there – on a freezing October morning, no less – to support his best bro, John, in his pursuit of a spot as Chaser on the team. 

“My ass is frozen to this spot. You’ll have to leave me behind when it’s all over, Rose,” he said to his companion, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

She shushed him, her eyes trained on the book she was holding. She was going all out on it, some stupid book about dark sorcery or whatever it was, like she had been for days. “Strider, I’m busy and in no mood for your complaints,” she told Dave, dismissing him without even looking up. 

“Bummer, and I had a killer dream last night, too,” he mentioned, leaning back a little in his seat and stretching casually, looking away from Rose and back out on the field. Some big guy had walked out onto it by now, probably the Captain for the year, and everyone was starting to get organized. Dave scanned the crowd of bobbing heads and broomsticks, finding John as easily as if he’d been the only one out there on the field. John looked nervous as hell, holding his broom a little too tightly. 

Rose cleared her throat and Dave turned, noticing that she’d closed her book. He raised a brow, looking between her and the book before returning his gaze back to her face. She was smirking. “What the hell’s that look for?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Are you having fun watching John?” she asked, the smirk growing just a touch wider once she’d said John’s name. 

“I’m not watchin’ John,” Dave immediately answered, almost defensively. “I may be watchin’ the rest of the idiots out there but that doesn’t mean that my watchin’ John is what is taking place here.” 

Rose just nodded, that damn infuriating smirk still on her damn infuriating face. “If you say so. Now,” she said, and she actually set the book beside her and leant slightly towards Dave. “What about this ‘killer dream’?” she asked, making air quotations around the phrasing that Dave had used. 

Oh. Dave hadn’t really expected her to go there; he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to actually talk about the dream. The only reason he had even brought it up was because he had been about ninety percent sure that Rose wouldn’t bite. That was a mistake on his part. 

“Uh,” he said, glancing back out at the field, his eyes somehow trained to look directly at John. Dave could see the look of sheer concentration on his friend’s face as he tried to catch the Quaffle, even from way out where he was sitting. It was kind of adorab – no, it wasn’t; it was John being John. 

“I dunno,” he started, shrugging and not looking at Rose. Dave put his hands behind his head and rested back on them, squinting up at the sky from behind his shades. He rolled his head to look back over at Rose, an easy grin on his face. “If I said anythin’, you’d tell me I was gay for John.” 

Rose put her green-and-silver striped scarf to her mouth to cover her grin and quiet laugh that she let out at Dave’s accurate description. “That tells me more than anything I needed to know,” she replied, pulling the scarf down from her mouth. “Your dream was about John, and you won’t share it because you know what I’ll say, isn’t that right?” The stupid smirk was back on her face. 

Dave sat up and whacked Rose’s arm through her heavy overcoat. “Quit lookin’ at me like that!” he said, still grinning himself. It was all in good fun; if only he could forget the dream he’d had last night, with his fingers in John’s hair and John looking at him with that dorky smile and – 

“Strider,” Rose said, suddenly, and Dave snapped out of his thoughts, looking at Rose with as straight of a face as he could muster. 

“Yeah?” he answered, trying to keep his mind from wandering like that again. It wasn’t that his mind never wandered, it was that it always fucking did, and that he wasn’t really able to control what he thought about or when, and it usually turned out to be the most inappropriate shit at the most inappropriate times. 

“John’s trying out as an individual, can you stop thinking about the dream you had with him for one second?” she asked, only a touch of impatience in her voice as she stared at Dave. “And if you really feel about him that way, I suggest getting it out in the open.” 

“But I don’t –“ 

“You do.” 

“Rose, fuckin’ seriously, I –“ 

“Dave.” 

“… All right, whatever, let’s just watch John play some damn Quidditch, and you can write freaky fanfiction about us later or whatever it is you do in your dungeon of a common room.” 

Rose nodded primly. “Better.” 

Both blondes turned their full attention to the Quidditch pitch, where John was just now kicking off and into the air, practicing with the rest of the team that they had already chosen. Dave didn’t know much about Quidditch, having never had an interest in it at all despite his older brother having been the most kick-ass Seeker that Gryffindor had had in a while, but he could definitely try to get into whatever it was that John was doing, if not for himself, than for Rose. She had less idea of what was going on than he did. 

The Keeper set the quaffle into motion and Dave started commentating out loud, trying to make sense of it in his head. “Okay, so, there they go, look at the Hufflepuffs actually trying for once. Who the hell are these people? I don’t know anyone but John. Wait – wait – “ Dave stood up, leaning forward a little and actually getting into the tryout, much to Rose’s amusement. “Sweet, he got the quaffle from that skinny dude, you fuckin’ go, John. Now he’s going for the goals – oh is he really gonna go for the big one like an idiot? Never mind, he’s got this, he’s – HEY!” Dave stood stock still and to him, it seemed like time had slowed down when he had shouted. 

The skinny guy that John had taken the quaffle from had purposely flown themselves into John and knocked him off of his broom and he’d fallen onto the pitch, his broom coming down and hovering by him after he’d fallen like a faithful dog would after its master had left it. 

“Dave, go,” Rose urged him; she’d stood up and was pushing at his back, trying to get him to move and get down from the pitch. After a minute of standing there, Dave almost sprinted from his seat, vaulting over lower bleachers until his feet touched the turf of the pitch. 

“You Mugglefucker, what the hell are you playin’ at?” Dave shouted, absolutely livid as he stormed over to the skinny dude who’d knocked John off of his broom. He grabbed the kid by the collar of his robes and lifted him off of the ground, bringing their faces close as he shouted. “The fuck d’you think this is, a fuckin’ rodeo?” 

Someone grabbed at Dave’s shoulder and pulled, turning him around violently and making him let go of the other kid. “Calm down, pint size,” a deeper voice rumbled, and Dave looked up at the older kid. 

“You aren’t gonna let him get away with that bullshit, are you?” he demanded, anger still swelling hot and hard and red in his chest. 

“It’s my business how I run my team. It’s your business to take your friend to the hospital wing,” the older teen replied, his voice low, and Dave took that as his cue to back off, though he would’ve liked nothing better than to punch the daylights out of the other kid. Fuck wands, he could do better with just his fists any day. 

He roughly shrugged the teen’s hand off of his shoulder and pushed past him, walking over towards Rose, who had knelt beside John. John was sitting up now, looking pretty much okay, if not a little dazed and confused. 

But then Dave got closer and he saw that John’s right arm, the one he’d landed on, was bent at a sickening angle, and that John actually looked like he might throw up on Rose, who seemed to have gotten the same impression and had backed away a little. “Dave, you should take John to the hospital wing,” Rose said, when Dave got close enough. 

Dave nodded, his jaw still set in anger. “Yeah. Then I’ll come back and hex the shit outta that other kid.” 

John looked up at Dave, his glasses a little askew on his nose, and he frowned at his best friend. “Don’t hurt him, Dave,” he chided, a small smile turning up one side of his mouth, but there was a certain wobble to John’s voice that broke all the fight Dave had had. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey before you puke or something like that,” he muttered, leaning down and taking John’s good hand, pulling him up. John wicned, but Dave figured it really couldn’t have been helped. 

Rose caught Dave’s eye as he was helping John off of the pitch and she mouthed, ‘Good luck,’ at him before turning and facing the rest of the Hufflepuff team that had been playing with John. 

Dave didn’t know what that meant and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

They were within sight of the door before either of them spoke. “So, how’d I do?” John asked, turning his head to look up at Dave. 

Dave looked down at John, feeling swallowed up by his friend’s blue eyes. Who had even made eyes that blue legal? There had to be a law against it somewhere. “Fuckin’ fantastic,” Dave responded immediately. “Until that asswipe –“ Dave stopped himself there, reminding himself that now was not the time to be angry. He could be angry later; he had to control that impulse. “How’s the arm?” he asked, changing the subject. 

John shook his head, his mouth set in a firm line. He looked like he was getting paler by the minute. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked. “It hurts more when I think about it.” 

“Sure.” They were almost at the doors now, but it was still too far to just leave John hanging. “Rose thinks I’m gay for you,” Dave blurted out. 

Oh, God, he thought, why? If John hadn’t been right there, Dave would have hit himself in the head. 

To Dave’s immense relief (and disappointment? Was that why his stomach felt like it was turning in on itself?), though, John laughed. “That’s so funny!” he said as they entered the school, the exclamation bouncing off of the stone walls and echoing around the entrance hall, its repetitions mocking Dave. “Why does she even think that? We’re just best bros,” John added, looking up at Dave and grinning. 

Dave couldn’t tell if he was relieved or upset, but as he affirmed, “Yeah, just friends,” there was a sour taste in his mouth. Was that what regret felt like, a sour taste and an inverted gut? Because Dave sure as hell felt regretful right then. 

Madam Pomfrey was waiting by the hospital wing door, her arms crossed over her chest and an impatient expression on her face. “Finally!” she exclaimed, taking John’s good arm from Dave. He immediately missed the warmth. “You can wait or you can go,” she told Dave, halfway into the infirmary with John already. 

Dave hesitated, looking towards John. “Go back to Rose and tell her I’m fine, and that she’s ridiculous for thinking that thing you told me,” John told him, a small grin on his face. 

“Yeah…” Dave said, nodding. “See you.” He reached out and ruffled John’s hair briefly, his heart pounding like a bird against its cage walls as he walked away, towards Gryffindor tower, rather than back outside. 

Only when Dave was sure the hallway was empty did he slow down and take in a slow, shuddering breath. “Shit,” he whispered, “shit.” 


End file.
